A Toiling Darkness Page 3

  I didn’t dwell on what Seeker had to do to make the body like that. I already knew the process, even saw it happen live once. It was disgusting. He has to embrace them, hold them close while kissing them. Once his lips touched skin, he fed. And he fed fast. Or if he was in a really bad mood, slowly to torture his meal. I suppressed a grossed-out shiver. He held an unfortunate power, one I didn’t envy.

  I survived off of human food, and even then, I only ever ate when I wanted to. I could go days without sustenance, no problem. My only reliance is sugar—a nice, safe little addiction that started when I came to the New World with Eithna, another old acquaintance. She was not part of the False Immorality club.

  Baron nodded, letting me know I could go see him and so I hopped off, going into the room without hesitation. Not even his bodyguards could scare me away right now. Not that they ever could.

  The room was only big enough for a small couch, a fireplace and a side table with a lamp on it. The lamp was on, the dull light casting dark shadows all around. Seeker sat on the couch, stretched out with his head back. His hair was pure white, almost translucent, his skin golden and limbs long and thin. When he was standing, he pushed eight feet tall.

  I stood in front of him, waiting for his completely white eyes to open and acknowledge me. His eyes were always unsettling because they had the power to look right through me. He probably did too—his vision was a lot better than mine. His eyes were the whole reason he was known as Seeker.

  He was a true seeker who not only saw the everyday things with an eagle’s eye but also information. He literally saw information. When I first met him, he tried to explain it to me and I couldn’t grasp the concept. Something about being bilingual and multicultural, and knowledge being opaque. Sounded like a bunch of garbage to me, but for him it all made sense. He was the best of the best after all. Seeker wasn’t just what he was, it was his name. He owned the name Seeker because he was the greatest. A lot of beings had ownerships to names, like Lord Kay being a lord for an example. Or Baron. Even I did too. I own quite a few names, actually. We were big and powerful, and not many tried to mess with us.

  I inwardly sighed with that thought. Even in this weak child form I was still big and bad.

  While Seeker was the best, he has one rather very annoying flaw. He has a really bad habit of falling into comas that would last days at a time. His guards claimed conservation, I say he’s just lazy. He also had the right to charge a lot for just the tiniest bit of information. In most cases it was a taste of life force for information—except me of course. I could get information for free, only because he fears me. I think he saw his death the day he met me and I was the cause of it. Not so much seeing the future, just the knowledge that I was capable of killing him and it was no skin off my back to do it. I would too. He’s been kissing my ass since day one.

  “Darkness.” The seeker’s voice was raspy as he enjoyed the high off the life force he had just consumed. He wasn’t enjoying it as much anymore with my presence however. His words were slow and careful, a hint of fear in them.

  “Seeker.”

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

  “I want to know why a slauve is in existence.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed, some unknown weight off his shoulders.

  “This one only kills if it is justifiable.”

  “Justifiable?” I asked, thinking about the word. I’ve heard it enough times.

  I’ll destroy her. I’ll bring her the same misery she brought to you, Eithna. I promise this. I will have justice for your death. A little promise whispered into the depths of the darkness, carried off by the shadows to my ears a couple of centuries ago.

  Justice was given to those who did wrong to another. It was a word I hated. Humans found injustice in everything. “Then every being is at risk.”

  “They are safe as long as they do not attack humans. Apparently the master is really fond of humans.”

  “And yet many of the beings live off of them,” I replied wryly. What kind of joke was this slauve’s master playing at?

  He went quiet, thoughtful, before slowly sitting up. Sitting straight up, he was taller than me standing.

  “Well, he is an angry man held down by morals. He also fears retribution by his own master.”

  “Morals.” I chewed on the word, tasted it and spat it back out in rejection. Another stupid concept humans created.

  “You do not believe in morals?” The seeker cocked his head questioningly. I glowered up at him.

  “There is no right and wrong when it comes to how others act, not in this world. What kind of morals would even hold back a being strong enough to create a slauve?”

  “He is simply a man who will follow his master to the end of time but needs justice to move forward,” he replied, using that damn word again and staying discrete, talking in little riddles. Like usual. “He’s torn by the duties to his own master and also in the need to right the wrongs done to him.”

  “Who is the slauve’s master and what does he want?” I asked, trying to get more information out of him. Talking with a seeker was always sluggish—they talked like a philosopher as they contemplated all the information they saw.

  Seeker shrugged as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He went still and after a few painfully long and suspenseful moments, he cocked his head as if listening to something. He jerked harshly, his head shaking before snapping his eyes back open. There was now a little silvery grey where his pupils would be.

  “You. He wants you dead.” I rolled my eyes. I already knew this. “Who-”

  He jerked again and his face slowly closed down, his eyelids drooping and all his muscles relaxing. Seeker was going into one of his comas and wouldn’t be able to wake up for another couple of days.

  “No you don’t,” I said a little desperately.

  I grabbed onto his shirt and yanked on him. His head rolled forward and when I shoved at him, his head rolled back against the couch. I swore under my breath and left. His guard stood in the door, big and imposing. I jerked my head towards his master and he scurried inside.

  When I plopped back down at the bar, Baron came over with a mug.

  “What is it?” I asked, looking at the contents suspiciously. Baron was well known for his weird concoctions. I had front row seats a couple of weeks ago to a woman drinking a shot of what she thought was virgin blood and her skin ended up bubbling, creating huge boils that when popped, showed a new, ugly hag-like appearance. She hasn’t been back since.

  “Just a little something to help with all that rage inside of you.”

  “That bad?” I asked, realizing that I was in fact raging—one of the terms the young kids like to use. It explained why a couple scurried away when I approached the bar, their faces paling when I got too close. I was used to others avoiding me when I got too close to them so I didn’t think it was anything new. Apparently Baron could read me loud and clear. He nodded and watched me with a careful smile.

  I took a deep breath, reining in the deep dark emotions I usually kept hidden. The bar grew brighter as I relaxed a little. So did the atmosphere as the other patrons shared a collective sigh of relief. The witch was still at her table, her companion holding on to her hand. She looked like she really wanted to talk to me. I ignored her and turned back to Baron. This was the second time tonight my wrath showed itself. I was better than this at controlling the one emotion that used to be the only thing that kept me going until El showed up and taught me better.

  El was a mentor who babysat me a very long time ago. He said I was on the brink of mass destruction and taught me control. Even with his help, it took a while to control all the fury I accumulated over the years. He said he looked inside of me and only found an endless dark pit of wrath. When we departed, he said it wasn’t so dark anymore, but still needed work. Said that would be my homework until next time.

  As if there was going to be a next time.

  Sniffing at the mug, I realize
d it was only tea. I eyed Baron before taking a tentative sip. The drink was laced with so much honey my eyes went big. He smiled carefully, enjoying my reaction.

  “You’re doing it again,” I warned. Baron blinked and the soft warmth left his face. He retreated to the other end of the bar to attend to another customer.

  Baron had a tendency to treat me like a child, the tea being a good example. I sipped it again, smiling to myself. I gave him reason enough to. I acted just like one.

  The tea was perfect.

  Chapter Three:

  Birds chirped, kids laughed, and off in the distance, cars honked. The park was surrounded by trees to create a little world where nature existed and children could play freely without worrying about being ran over.

  It was such a beautiful day and yet I was laying here, wishing I could throttle Seeker right now. I needed to find out who created that slauve, especially if he wanted me dead. I guess I could count my blessings because the slauve was as naïve as a newborn and couldn’t even recognize his target as she stared right into his face.

  Hurrah for small favors.

  Now all I needed to do was end things before he completely understood that I was his ticket to freedom.

  A kid screeched, breaking me from my thoughts. The same little girl who made the high pitch noise ran past me, her brown pigtails trailing behind her as she focused on getting away from the girl who chased her. The other girl looked just like a slightly older version of the first one, her hair a little longer and a richer brown. She had her hands out, wiggling them as she threatened the little girl with tickles. I watched, envious, wishing I could be as carefree as them. I’ve never had that—someone to play with me. Someone to threaten me with tickles or vice versa.

  Maybe things would have been different if I had someone like that older girl to play with. Maybe I wouldn’t be filled with the rage I fought to keep in check every day. Maybe humans wouldn’t fear me so easily and cower in my presence when I was in my true form. Maybe I wouldn’t hate them for it either. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

  El told me once to respect humans at least a little, that their lives were fleeting and they worked every day to make it fulfilling before they came to an end. I called him an idiot then, and said they were only the hunted. Food for the strong. But now, moments like this left me jealous. At least they had a ‘family,’ people to call their own and to trust. Sometimes I have trouble even grasping the concept of a mother or father—the words were too foreign for me.

  The closest I ever came to having a family was with Eithna and the time I spent with her was too short. When we first met, she used only a few words and held an upfront attitude to gain my attention. She didn’t have to work hard to make me want to hang out with her.

  I smiled softly as the little memory rose up from the depths of my subconscious.

  When we first met, Eithna came strutting over to me at the hotel I was staying at. Her long auburn hair framed her face like wild fire. Everything about her was fiery. She took shit from no one, was quick to laugh, but just as swift in her anger. She captured me with her stunning good looks and by the way she held herself. The strange woman was perfectly aware of how she came off to others and didn’t give a shit. She didn’t even give any of the humans staring at her a glance. All her attention was focused solely on me—as if I could be the center of the world she seemed to desperately search for. It was there in the corners of her eyes, a small desperation I never bothered to ask her about.

  When she stopped at my table, she smiled down at me, mischief playing in her eyes. “Hallo. Are you Akhlys?” I just looked back up at her, wary but curious. She towered over my table, patiently waiting for a response she was so sure of getting.

  I was only at the tavern because I needed a little break from wandering around while I figured out where to go next. Back then I had no real goal. I got into the habit of always moving around and during that time, even more so. I was trying to decide if I wanted to go to the New World or not. Start all over in a place where legends haven’t had time to be created yet.

  Where I could pretend to be no one and get away with it.

  I turned to the woman and cocked my brow. She held a small smile, as if everything was there for her to play with. She saw me as another toy and for once, her greed didn’t bother me. Charisma. Eithna had always been dripping with charisma.

  “You are?” I asked in Gaelic. I already knew she was from Ireland by the sweet Irish lilt. She smiled, even happier with my response. She switched back to Gaelic, her words throaty and yet soft and beautiful.

  She laughed. “Is mise Eithna.”

  “Eithna?” I remembered the name meant fiery. “A fire elemental?”

  “Tá, and you are less scary than I thought. Come to New World with me.”

  “Why?” I asked. She was so bold and abrupt with me and I couldn’t seem to find it troublesome. Did I mention she was all charisma? It didn’t even take me long to be wrapped around her white slender fingers.

  “You’re going to teach me your magic.”

  She laughed at my blank expression and pulled a chair out to sit across from me, leaning forward as her voice lowered. “Come to America with me.”

  Her demands caught me off guard. They were really demands, nothing that she said was poised as a question. It was like she expected me to do it. Maybe that was why I agreed. She came, she took control, and for once I could just leave it up to her. Making your own decisions for thousands of years really does get tiring.

  I could tell she was young, if a couple hundred years could be thought of as young. So with the exchange of only a couple of sentences we took off for America. Simple and yet it led to so much more and ended with her death.

  She wasn’t there anymore to laugh at me, or to tell me I wasn’t scary. She no longer woke me up in the middle of the day with her soft and throaty words, wanting me to teach her something else. I missed the child’s curiosity she held about everything I had to teach her.

  I lay back down on the grass, coming out of my memories and hating where my thoughts went while I was in La-La land. I’ve barely thought about her lately. I worked hard not to. I gave her a spot in my heart and now it was empty with nothing to fill it up, right next to the other little holes created when I was a naïve little being. Well, if the slauve got what he wanted, maybe I’ll join her in whatever afterlife existed for beings like us. If he was capable of doing it—which he wasn’t.

  Bits of clouds floated by and I lifted my left hand, pretending to squash them in my palm. Just like what I wanted to do to the slauve, but not before I got what I needed from him. With the seeker out for the count for the next couple of days, only the slauve would know who created him and I was almost sure I would do anything to get him to tell me. If he wasn’t under some kind of gag order, I could do it. I know I could. Hopefully.

  Usually beings are proud of their ability to create a slauve, and yet there was no one out there claiming the one from last night. Eithna was the last one to create one and it got her killed by the Consort.

  A goodie bag of mixed feelings rose inside of me.

  Guilt, anger, fear.

  Any thoughts of the Consort were good at doing that. My hand involuntary went to the little brand etched into my skin, a gifted curse from the very first time I met them. It was punishment meant for Kay, who bailed on me so long ago. He left me ‘hanging’ as some kids like to say. He left me to take his punishment for him. Now I carried a small brand on the inside of my left thigh to dampened my powers only a little bit.

  If that was all the curse did, I would have been happy, but no. The main reason for the stupid annoying thing was to cause excruciating pain that would make me second-guess using my powers unless I wanted to feel the pain that went with it. The etching wasn’t even fancy, just a small double ring, the size of a quarter, and yet the mark could cause so much suffering if I tried to tap into too much of my power.

  So when the Consort came and killed Eithna, I thought they were goi
ng to kill me too. After all, her death could be blamed on me. I told them the truth and somehow, they let me off. They said it wasn’t my fault, I never told her about the spell or helped her with it. Their job was to punish or kill any being who threatened the secrecy of our world. Eithna did just that.

  I didn’t.

  I was safe then and I’m still safe two hundred years later. Or at least I thought I was until I ran into that damn slauve last night. His very existence told me enough.

  First off, the slauve’s master was a strong one. A being needs to have so much of the right kind of power to create a slauve. If not, the spell will drain them of their power and they die. For Eithna, she was left with so little after making the slauve that she became someone other than the fire wielding elemental fae that she was. That something else was only a shadow of who she was, a shadow filled only with hatred for the humans and she took all that crazy out on them—including a schoolhouse full of little children.

  The Consort were the ones who took care of her within hours after that incident. All because I missed the signs, because I missed the gleam in her eyes as she asked about more powerful spells. I missed the fact that she was mourning the death of her two little children; children who were killed by humans who were unaware of their weakness for water. I didn’t even know she had children until she told me.

  They did this to me. It was only a matter of time for me to return the favor…thank you for teaching me, for being such a good teacher. Let me help you put yourself out of your misery. It’s the least I can do.

  Then I killed her slauve and the Consort came and dragged her away.

  My memory chose that moment to flash on Eithna’s body after the Consort were done with her. Her skin used to be white and soft and warm. But not anymore. It was tossed out as a cold and leathery thing—devoid of the warmth that kept me from keeping her at a distance like the others.